Alluring
by poptropica.1997
Summary: Prince Ian Kabra of the kingdom Triant is about to become the most powerful man on earth. His father and mother, Vikram and Isabel Kabra have finally completed their ancestors legacy. They have slaughtered each and every Cahill. Ian's job is now to go and retrieve the serum-a job easily done with no pestering Cahills in the way. Or are there?
1. Prolouge

_Welcome readers! This is a fic that I have been working on for a long time and I finally decided to post it! Thanks to **A Pencil In Her Hand** who is going to beta this story! She is awesome and amazing! Also credit goes to **slivershadewolf**, **musiclover3** and **A Pencil In Her Hand**(again) :D for helping me come up with names. I could not have done it without them. And thanks to those who also helped me out! (You know who you are!)_

_Just to clarify, this is just the prologue of the story. The future chapters will be 1,000+ words just to have more story. I hope you like it! The next chapters have Amy and Dan and my favorites, the Kabra family. _

In the Cahill world, everyone is after one thing.

A serum.

It was said that whoever took of the serum that the original Cahill patriarch, Gideon Cahill, created would receive powers of unimaginable potency.

Powers that could grant the drinker enhanced intelligence, strength, skill, and cunning.

Gideon spent years trying to find the right ingredients for his life altering creation. Some days had dragged on, while others disappeared in a blink of an eye. Then came the momentous day when it was finally finished.

Gideon, overjoyed at his success, wanted more than anything for his beloved children to partake of the serum, and together with their power, rule the world in peace.

When Gideon told his children of the wonderful news, they began to fight amongst themselves, creating chaos in the family. Each of them felt like their siblings were not worthy enough to partake of their father's gift.

Gideon, heartbroken at seeing the contention, left his quarreling family, taking the serum with him. But before he went, Gideon left a note.

In the note he told his children that he was sorry, but his leaving was for the best.

Along with his words, Gideon left something else.

A clue.

The presence of the clue stated that Gideon had hid the serum in a specific location, in hope that someday, perhaps one of his descendants would find it and rule the world with peace.

The note was crumpled up and destroyed over the years, but the clue he left behind burned bright in the greedy hearts of the Cahills.

For 400 years, the descendants of Gideon's children, Luke, Jane, Thomas, and Katherine Cahill, lied, stole, and killed each other brutally.

So great was their greed to collect all of the clues and gain access to the serum's location, that many became obsessed with the hunt. Some had come close to achieving their goal of world domination, but none had ever found the powerful treasure that Gideon had hidden so long ago.

One of Luke's descendants, Nathan Kabra, had been consumed with a deep hunger to find the prize. He had come extremely close to finding the location-only to one day vanish mysteriously, leaving behind his wife and only son, Tristan Kabra.

Filled with anger at Nathan's disappearance, Tristan came up with with a plan to find the location of the serum. Only then would he end the centuries old search that had taken his father from him.

Tristan knew that, in order to find the location of the serum, he and all of the Kabra family line would have to...dispose of the other Cahills rivals. Every single one of them.

For one hundred years, the Kabra's reign of terror lasted. They killed mercilessly, eliminating anyone who had even a whisper of Cahill blood in their body.

But the Cahills retaliated. They were not going down without a fight. The Kabra family was forced into hiding, but every now and then, a rumor of a Kabra stirred fear in the hearts of all.

Finally, through blackmail and lying, one of Tristan's descendants, became king of the Kingdom Triant. The Kingdom Triant was the most powerful kingdom in the world-taking over it was the best thing a Kabra had ever accomplished. Vikram Kabra was unstoppable._  
_

With a squadron of loyal soldiers at his bloodthirsty fingertips, he hunted down, and destroyed every living Cahill, obliterating the dysfunctional family's breed forever.

...Or so he thought.

_Did you like it? And if you guys ever need someone to talk to or just have a fangirl moment, go ahead and PM me! I would love to talk! And quick question. Do you sleep with socks on or no socks at all? _


	2. Chapter 1

_Let's give a round of applause for...(drum roll please) **A Pencil In Her Hand**! My amazing beta and friend. =) This chapter is dedicated to her because she made it click together and really made it posting worthy! (HAHA) She has completed her fantastic Suspicious Circumstances! Go and check it out if you haven't! It is really great! I'm so lucky to have her!_

_Heads up! My friend **Cherrygummybear21** has posted a contest for the 39 clues! If you check out her profile, the link is on there! If you have trouble finding it, just PM me and I can direct you there even better!_

_I hope you enter!_

_And thanks for reviewing everyone! LOVE IT! And maybe some of you noticed, but I changed my name to Orange Poppy (Thanks to Gone and the nickname she gave me from my last username! XD) and I think it is going to stay that way! Unless someone strongly objects or something. But even then I think it is going to stay. _

_As for chapter one of Alluring, I hope you enjoy it. _

* * *

Ian Kabra was having a pleasant day.

And pleasant days for Ian Kabra were rare.

He was strolling across the castle grounds, his famous smirk ever present on his face.

Part one of Tristan Kabra's quest to obliterate Cahill blood was finished.

Part two was now in play. And Ian planned to be the one to see that it was carried out.

His cheery mood was odd, considering that earlier that morning, Ian had woken up in a sour mood, having stayed up all night studying the boring history of past Cahills.

On the first day of every month, Vikram Kabra gave his children a stack of files stuffed with information on Cahills, insisting that they report to him what they had discovered in detail.

Ian loathed the dull work and felt that it was an utter waste of time for a prince to learn such useless information, and he often put off the inevitable as long as he dared.

So he read through the night in order to get the task finished before his father's deadline, occasionally scoffing at some of the ridiculous things he came across.

He had stopped laughing when he remembered that some of the same Cahill blood ran through him as well.

Head down, he had continued his task in silence, his superior brain automatically memorizing the most minute details on every one of the three hundred plus pages assigned to him.

Ian leaned heavily upon his uncanny ability to memorize whatever he saw, to finish the files in time, despite his lazy tendencies, and had always been able to present his father with the dull reports he insisted upon, before the deadline passed.

It wasn't an ideal method, but for Ian, it had always worked out well in the past.

But eventually, his bothersome younger sister, Natalie, had seen to it that he failed the assignment.

Despite her being his sibling, Ian couldn't remember a time where he and Natalie were not holding knives to each others throats.

Although the future throne of Triant was rightfully Ian's, Natalie seemed to feel that she should be the next ruler. This created a bitter wall of resent and anger between Ian and Natalie, and they fought over everything, now being no exception.

Natalie had rudely interrupted him mid-afternoon as he rushed frantically to finish his thick stack of files, claiming to have new information about a potential Cahill in the kingdom.

Ian had shot an irritated glare at her and told her to go ride a pony or something, but inside, his heart quickened with the chance to prove his worth to his mother. As soon as he was sure Natalie was gone, he went to investigate her claim.

That had been another command of his father's. Vikram said that it was a Kabra's responsibility to always investigate all Cahill related rumors, and personally dispose the remaining competition themselves.

There had been many rumors of Cahills who were actually thick enough to enter the kingdom. But each time Ian had gone to eliminate them, the talk had turned out to be nothing but a plethora of disappointing dead ends.

One day Ian had turned a deaf ear to the rumor mill-and paid for his lack of judgment drastically.

That was the day a certain Grace Cahill was introduced to the mix.

At age 69, 5'3'', the sly old woman was said to have a daughter named Hope Cahill as well as two pathetic grandchildren. Yet more vermin that Ian would have to hunt and destroy.

Vikram had spent much time and energy trying to track down this family, but Grace was tricky. Despite everything Vikram threw at her, the old woman had been successfully avoiding getting herself and her posterity killed for ten long years.

And then one day, the most wanted woman in the kingdom had the audacity to openly strike back.

She broke into the castle, obtained all the clues the Kabra's had carefully collected over the years, and vanished again, right under Ian's nose.

It was an unthinkable blow to his family, and Ian was entirely to blame for the enormous loss.

When Isabel Kabra heard that her son had failed to stop a doddering old woman from destroying them in their own castle, her demeanor had been deadly calm.

Ian remembered the details of that fateful day all too well. It was two years ago and the weather had been clear, and lovely outside. Ironic, really, considering the storm brewing inside the castle walls.

His mother had called him to the East Wing of the castle, more commonly referred to as: The torture chamber, for a 'Talk' about what he had done.

As Ian entered, somewhat warily, something had stung him in the back. He remembered briefly his mother's cold smile, and then there had been nothing but darkness.

When he had woken up in his room, hours later, he saw his mother leaning over him, a bottle of smelling salts in her hand.

And then he felt the pain.

Ian had yelled, as the unbelievable amount of agony overwhelmed his self control. He writhed and twisted spasmodically in his bed, desperate to extinguish the mirage of searing flames consuming his tortured body.

His mother had stared down at him, a look of pity in her expression, but Ian saw through it; he knew with a sickening clarity, that his mother had poisoned him.

And the worst part was that it hadn't surprised him at all.

"As painful as this must be," Isabel had purred sweetly, her hot breath stinging his sensitive skin, "It is _nothing_ compared to the agony you will have to endure if you _ever_ fail me again."

After ten long minutes of unimaginable anguish, his mother stood up and leaned over him, a long needle in her hand.

"Never again." she whispered. Then she injected the needle into his tender flesh, and he knew no more.

Two days later, he finally awoke, a deep throbbing pain running along the length of his left shoulder blade. With a rising sense of horror, Ian forced himself to examine the wound.

It was worse than he could have ever imagined. He had clenched his jaw in a mixture of horror and fury.

Carved into his flesh, just deep enough to form a scar that would remain with him forever, was the word _Failure_, skillfully written in his mother's fancy ornate script.

Ian touched the scar on his shoulder, now faded over time to a silver sheen, and closed his eyes, willing himself to forget that terrible haunting memory.

But who could forget? He was forever branded by Isabel; the sinister word a constant reminder that he would never be free from the presence of failure.

After a long, disappointing day spent searching the city for answers about possible Cahills, Ian returned to the castle with the sinking knowledge that he hadn't found any leads whatsoever, and his father would be furious when he found that Ian had not completed the mandatory task of reporting on the files.

By the time Ian crept into his chamber for the night, daylight was long gone, and he was too exhausted to do anything but flop onto his bed, and bury his head beneath a cool pillow.

When, after a night of little sleep, he had awoken and ordered some tea for his breakfast, his idiot of servant had spilled tea on his best robe. Ian had promptly fired him -the Kabras did not tolerate clumsy servants.

Then came the moment when his father had called him into the throne room.

Ian had come unwillingly, fully expecting a harsh punishment for his failure to relate the required monthly information about the Cahills.

But this meeting had been different.

_Extremely different,_ Ian mused now, even as his meanderings about the grounds brought him to a rosebush. With deft fingers, he snagged a bloom, and began shredding its petals as he walked along.

Vikram had proclaimed to his son that all of the Cahills were dead. All of them.

Ian frowned in remembrance. The last killing had seemed unnecessarily cruel and tragic, even to his hardened heart.

Two weeks before, Grace Cahill and her two grandchildren had been in their cottage-unaware that their location had been discovered-when the sparks his father's soldiers ignited caught flame.

All that had been left of that cottage was ashes.

Ian shuddered at the thought of the three bodies trapped inside the hut. He preferred quiet, deadly poison to such morbid murders; it was much less...messy.

Vikram had declared that Ian would be the one to go retrieve the precious serum that so many lives had been destroyed over. The serum that Gideon Cahill himself had created.

Ian was to embark on his quest in one week, the day of his birth in fact.

Once he turned nineteen, Ian would become eligible to be crowned King.

Ian smiled smugly. _What a day that will be!_

Ian could picture himself being King of Triant- No, _Ianient_; quite well. How could he not?

All his life, he had had constant reminders that he would someday take on the role, and now, the moment when the crown was placed on his head was so close that it filled his mind with an almost giddy sense of anticipation.

He stopped on a hill, and surveyed his vast kingdom as it lay, spread out before him. A flock of birds soared in the brilliant blue sky overhead, and Ian could faintly distinguish the low moan of a cow mooing softly in the distance.

_This is the world I am destined to rule, _Ian thought with a tightening of his chest. He imagined the glorious authority that he would command. All would bow to Ian Kabra.

In less than a week, he would be the first Cahill to hold the serum of ultimate power in his hands in over four hundred years.

Ian shivered happily. The very thought of possessing that much raw power was exhilarating.

_Yes,_ he thought, tossing the crumpled rose petals into the breeze, and turning back towards the castle. _Today __i__s__ more than a pleasant day._

_It is a beginning..._

* * *

_What was your least favorite part? And what was your favorite part? Do you think Ian having the word failure carved into his shoulder is a bit...Dark? (LOL :D)_

_And Amy will be appearing in the next chapter. But how you ask? Isn't she dead?_

_We can see about that. XDXD Until then, bye!_


	3. Chapter 2

_Hola Amigos! Thank you for all the reviews and the feedback! Here is chapter two! Special thanks to _**A Pencil In Her Hand**_ for being a awesome beta! THis chapter was originally like 1,000 words but then it ended up 2,000. That is how good she is! Please go and check out her story To Forget!_

* * *

As Ian reached the castle courtyard, his senses were treated to the pungent smell of fresh manure, and chattering cries of servants, that hung in the stale air.

Ian wrinkled his nose in disgust. Infection was heavy in the dismal atmosphere, and he felt bile rise in his throat as the smell of urine wafted past him.

It was laughably ironic,Ian thought grimly, as he hopped over a pile of fresh horse dung, that the place he despised the most, was one he was forced to cross through every day of his life.

When he was crowned king, Ian planned to drive out the pitiful peasants and servants that gathered here, and have the disease ridden courtyard promptly destroyed.

Ian quickened his steps; widening them to double his usual stride. He needed to get to his chambers. There were things he needed to accomplish before the quest for the serum was to begin.

A blaring trumpet sounded as he entered the courtyard; Vikram's soldiers saluted Ian smartly as he passed, and all of the servants bowed, their noses brushing reverently against the putrid ground.

-Well, _almost_ all the servants bowed.

In the midst of the obedient crowd, a lone girl still stood, gaping curiously at Ian with wide green eyes.

Her hands twisted nervously in the folds of her grungy apron, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was committing a crime punishable by death.

Irritated by the girl's quiet, intent gaze, Ian eyed her coldly. How dare she stare so at him?

As if sensing his words, her eyes snapped away from his face, and the color in her pale cheeks spiked to tomato.

With a small gasp, she noticed the bent heads around her. Frantically she dropped to her knees- but it was too late.

Ian was tempted to let the incident go -he did not have the time to spend to chastise his servants.

One of the guards eyed him expectantly; awaiting Ian's word of punishment.

Ian glared at the man, suddenly irked. Was it Stare-Impudently-At-The-Prince Day?

The girl risked a peek at him, a mixture of hope, and fear evident on her face.

Ian shot the aggravating servant twit a fierce look, and she shrank back, ducking her head as he turned his attention towards the still prostrate crowd.

Her frightened, innocent gaze frustrated him. It made what he was about to do, seem almost wrong.

Almost.

The crowd was beginning to murmur and stir uncertainly and Ian clenched his fist.

He silently cursed the girl fiercely for causing all of this bother. Why couldn't she have just bowed down?

It was too late for forgiveness. She had sealed her own fate. If Ian let her off now, Isabel would hear of it, and his mother's will was something Ian did not wish to cross.

Ian pointed to the soldier closest to him,- the one who had stared at him.

"You." He asked sharply, "Who hired this dirt?"

The guard started, surprised. "Pardon, your highness?"

"Who is in charge of that girl?" He waved his hand towards the center of the courtyard.

The soldier gulped, and held his breath. "I do not-"

"Your highness," a man stepped in front of the soldier, and bowed.

Ian pressed his lips together tightly. Impertinent man. Did no one here know the rules of protocol?

"What is it?" He grated out. Ian's head throbbed from a combination of a thousand disgusting smells, and he longed for a goblet of rich wine to clear his senses.

_I should have taken another route __to my quarters__..._ He thought grimly. _This nonsense is ridiculous._

"Sire, this girl-" the man began, "-Came here only today to offer her services as a servant. I beg that she be spared from your wrath; she didn't know that-"

Ian coldly appraised the man. He shut his mouth abruptly when he saw Ian's face.

"It does not matter if she was hired today or a year ago." Ian said, focusing his attention on the unfortunate girl. "She doesn't seem to be daft. She should have known better. Mistakes are not tolerated here."

_Mistakes are not tolerated_... Ian winced slightly as the words left his mouth. He was beginning to sound like Isabel.

"But-" The man protested.

Ian was tired of being interrupted by peasants. "Would _you_ rather pay the consequences?" He snapped.

The man exchanged an uncertain glance with the red-haired girl.

"Well, no." He admitted somewhat sheepishly. "But- she is just a girl!"

Ian's lip curled into a frown. "And this changes things, _how_?"

The servant looked shocked at Ian's cool tone. He bobbed his head again in a partial bow, and took a few steps back.

Ian smirked at the man's fear. How _honorable_ of him to step up for the girl, only to give up when things got messy.

The coward.

Ian grimaced.

Or...maybe the man was wise.

After all, mistakes were not tolerated in Triant, and defying the prince over a servant girl was most certainly a mistake.

"Take her to the Lucian chamber." Ian said, suddenly too disgusted to stand another moment amid the cowards and fools that seemed to abound in the pig sty of a courtyard.

Two guards sprang into action and lifted the girl up from shaking legs.

Ian turned on his heel, heading irrationally back out into the grounds, the pleasant feeling he had felt earlier, gone.

If it hadn't been for that girl...

He scowled. Now he had to punish her because of her ignorance. He flinched as she cried out in fear and pain._ She's just a girl, _his conscious whispered. _She didn't mean to disrespect you._

Ian sighed. Perhaps he could let it go.

His left shoulder started to burn, radiating pulsing heat where Isabel had carved his... reminder.

_No. _Ian thought, hardening his heart.

He would punish the girl. He would prove to his mother that Ian Kabra was no weakling.

He would lock the girl in the dungeon for one week with no victuals.

Really, he persuaded himself, halfheartedly, she deserved no less.

She had shamed him front of his subjects, making him look like a fool.

She would pay.

Ian clenched his fists in trepidation. He hated this. Deep down, he knew that the girl really did not deserve to be punished.

But his mother would know if he let the issue slide. She would see to it that the both Ian, and the girl, would have a much stronger punishment than a week in the dungeon.

Ian stopped walking and held his breath. He had walked to the edge of the castle grounds and was standing at the edge of Illusionaire. The forest of secrets.

Ian laughed. It was ironic. There was nothing secretive about it really. It was known throughout the kingdom that many Cahill descendants had been executed behind the gruesome cover of trees.

The thoughts of human flesh rotting into nothingness in the forest made Ian's skin crawl. He made a silent vow that when he became king of Triant, he would have every tree in the forest cut down. It bothered him that the thick foliage withheld what transpired within the forest. Trees could hide things...Dangerous things.

But now was not the time to think about being king. He had a servant girl to deal with.

Ian headed back to the castle, his long strides bringing him back in a matter of minutes. He entered the hallway of the Lucian chamber, where the two soldiers he had sent stood in front of the door.

They saluted him and allowed him to enter.

The girl was crouched on her knees, her dirty fingers laced together, head bent down as if she was praying.

_If only she had imitated that pose in the courtyard_... Ian thought grimly.

The guard shut the door behind him and the girl looked up to see Ian staring at her.

Her face turned bright red and she ducked her head back down again.

Ian smirked, amused. Although of course, there was no girl in the kingdom that would be a match for him, the ladies of the land always tried to flirt with Ian.

Even though she pretended not to notice his looks, her heated blush gave her away. Ian could tell that she was one of the many females who thought that he was...pleasing to look at.

Ian let the silence hang in the room, enjoying the feeling of the girl's anxiety.

She refused to look into his face; and after a few minutes, Ian pressed his lips together in anger. He was not accustomed to being spited.

"Look at me girl," he said, coldly.

She flinched, then shook her head slowly, her hands trembling. "I-I can't."

Ian took a step closer to her. Was she really going to defy him in his own palace?

"I will not have a peasant disobey an order." He snapped. "I could have you killed here on the spot. Look at me."

The girl grimaced, and raised her eyes to his, the expression in them one of mixed trepidation and bravery. On any other, Ian would have admired the spirit shown, but these eyes made his blood ran cold.

He knew them now. A brilliant jade green- they could be none but Grace Cahill's eyes.

Ian knitted his brow. But Grace was dead. Every Cahill was dead. Yet...

"What's your name?" Ian asked, his suspicions rising.

The girl's stuttered reply of "Amy Cah-Castle," made him narrow his eyes. The girl looked extremely nervous. Her eyes were even wider, if possible, and her lips were pressed tightly together. Ian almost laughed at the futility of her efforts. She was lying to him.

Pathetic.

His superior, highly trained Lucian brain easily picked up the information he needed from subtle clues in the girl's body language.

He leaned closer to her, his mouth brushing against her ear. "Amy, do you know what happens to liars in the kingdom Triant when they get caught?" he whispered, sinisterly.

The girl visibly shivered, but did not move away. "N-no." she gasped out.

Ian chuckled. "It's quite a messy business to witness liars being dealt with. What if you tell me the truth, so you are not one of the unfortunate souls who does?"

Amy opened her mouth, but no words came out. In the shocked silence that followed, Ian stood up, and stretched his muscles. They were sore from tossing and turning the night before, and he wished the interrogation over with.

"I don't have all day girl," he barked, suddenly angry at the girl's silence.

Amy got up from the ground carefully, as though frightened that he would strike her. She was a full head shorter than Ian, and if humanly possible, she shrunk even more under his chilly gaze.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she quavered.

Ian put on his most bored expression and tried one of the oldest Lucian tactics for gathering information: State the facts you think you know.

"You're Grace Cahill's granddaughter, Amy Cahill-" He tested. The girl's eyes widened in shock.

_Ah ha!_ Ian thought smugly, "-Daughter of Hope and Arthur Cahill." He leaned forward, "You're the girl who died in the fire, although I must say, you don't make for a very convincing ghost."

Amy stepped back horrified, her red hair a tangled mess. "No!"

Ian smiled. "Yes."

"B-but, oh please don't!" Tears filled her eyes, making Ian step back in disgust.

This was the part of interrogation he hated the most.

The tears, -there were always tears- followed shortly by begs for mercy.

So Vikram's soldiers had not killed every Cahill. There had been a survivor. This put an annoying twist on things. Ian's hand went instinctively under his robe, feeling for the dagger hidden there.

It would be easier, kinder even, for him to kill the girl now and never tell anyone of the mistake.

But then again, if Amy Cahill had survived, there may have been others survivors as well. She might know their location.

Isabel really would be furious if he murdered their only shot at snuffing out the remaining Cahills.

And even though the Amy's speaking habits were rather annoying, there was something about the way she stood, quietly awaiting her fate, despite her trembling limbs, that intrigued him.

No, she would not die yet. Ian could keep her alive for a while, and then kill her later.

After all, Mother and Father had a way of withholding the truth whenever it pleased them to do so. It was time he carried on the tradition.

Ian pulled out his knife and grabbed Amy's arm, spinning her around so his right hand was around her waist, the other, clutching the knife to her exposed throat.

Amy yelped, and stood breathing deeply, as her salty tears dropped wetly onto Ian's hand.

Ian's lip curled in involuntary disgust as the droplets rolled down his skin, but he kept his position.

"Do you have a death wish? You must know that it is suicide for your kind to even set one _toe_ in this kingdom."

He eyed Amy, gauging her reaction. She remained stubbornly silent, even as he held a knife to her throat. Ian frowned, frustrated.

"Cahills are daft, girl. It is why we must eliminate you." He snapped, then shuddered, "To think of Gideon's all powerful serum ending up in the possession of such fools. Ha!"

Amy's breathing stopped at the mention of the serum, and Ian raised an eyebrow as a hopeful thought struck him.

_Did she know its location?_

Then she spoke, and hope flew out the open window. "If-if you are g-going to kill me-"

Ian dug the knife a bit deeper into her neck, silencing her.

"I'm not going to kill you." He said, the bitter disappointment of her unsatisfactory words lending a hard edge to his tone. "Not _yet_. You have secrets, secrets that need to be... spilled, before the bloodbath begins."

A shaky sob emitted from Amy's throat, and Ian pushed her away in repulsion.

"You will continue your service as a _servant-girl._" he began, the Cahill girl visibly shivering.

Then the gears in Ian's mind clicked into place, and an idea came to him.

"I leave to find the serum in one week." He said, casually. Amy flinched, as the word 'Serum' left his mouth and Ian smirked. So she _did_ know something of it.

"You shall accompany me on the quest." He fingered his knife, Amy's eyes followed it fearfully. _Good. _Ian thought, satisfied_. __If she was afraid, she would obey him._

"You will tell no one of what transpired here, or the last sensation you ever feel will be this very knife-" he said, brandishing the blade elegantly, "-Slicing deep into your neck."

Amy shivered, and nodded. Then curiosity overcame her fear. "B-but why would you want to take m-me?" she stuttered.

Ian appraised the girl before him. She was ugly, with her unnaturally green eyes, and bushy red hair. Pity. Cahill blood wasted on her.

"That is not your concern," he said stiffly. "But know this." He shoved the weapon into its sheath and looked her straight in the eyes. "If you attempt escape at any time, I _will_ kill you."

Amy's bottom lip trembled, and as Ian turned to leave, she muttered something under her breath.

"What was that?" he asked, his tone full of cavalier mockery. Now would come the begging for mercy- it always did.

Amy looked up, her face stained with tears. "I hate you, Ian Kabra." She whispered.

* * *

_Dun dun dun! So what was your favorite part of this chapter?_

_Thanks and please review and leave CC! I really want to hear what you guys have to say! :D_


	4. Chapter 3

_Yay chapter three! You finally get to read more about Miss Amy Cahill! You guys have no idea how much fun I am having writing this fic with the help of my fantabulous friend, **A Pencil In Her Hand**! She might as well get credit and also be called the author of this fic because she has been doing wonderful things with it and making this story awesome. And thanks for everyone who reviewed! You make eating peanut butter sandwiches ten times better! Oh yum. _

_And yes Gone, what a beautiful family. XD_

* * *

The look on Ian's face spelled fury and honest confusion.

Amy kept her head bent down, trying to avoid eye contact.

_What did I just do?_ She wondered, in horrified silence.

She peeked a glance at the Kabra boy.

Oh no, he was looking right at her.

Amy was positive that she was going to die -if not by Ian's hand- then certainly from the pounding of her heart.

His olive skin was a rich tone, his dark black hair perfect, and his amber eyes had a mesmerizing quality about them that made her insides turn to mush.

She hated him.

It was completely unfair that the son of a murderer could look so handsome and confident, when his soul was so foul.

When Prince Ian had glared at her pointedly in the courtyard, she hadn't even been able to think straight - much less muster a comprehensible sentence.

Or so she had thought, before her mouth had rebelled and she blurted out the angry feelings in her heart.

"You think I care what a peasant thinks of me?" the prince said, a beat too quickly. "You will do as I wish, and that's final."

He strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Amy bit her lip to keep back a gasp of surprise.

She expected death-she was certain that her angry words had sealed her fate-and yet suddenly the prince was taking her on a quest to find the serum? It made no sense!

Amy shuddered.

The prospect of traveling with the prince, _anywhere_, unnerved her- let alone on a quest searching for a deadly serum that in the wrong hands could very well start an apocalypse.

She pressed a hand to her throbbing temples with a groan. What was wrong with her?

Why had she ever thought that finding work as a maid in a palace full of ruthless Cahill killers was a good idea?

Like Ian had said, even entering the gates of the castle was suicidal; yet here she was.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Amy berated herself bitterly. _Why couldn't you have just bowed?_

If only Grace had been there.

_Grace..._

Amy's heart felt like it had been stabbed. She licked her lips, tasting the liquid salt of tears.

Her mind flashed back to the event, that two weeks ago had ripped her life apart...

_Amy picked up yet another piece of wood from the ground, and balanced it expertly in her full arms._

Her back itched, and she just knew that there was a spider crawling in her hair. She groaned, as a fresh mosquito bite pierced her vulnerable skin.

She hated gathering firewood. It was hot, mind numbing work; already she had half a dozen splinters embedded deep in her palm, and one of the logs she had grabbed had been home to a family of fire ants.

Dan staggered under the weight of his load, but his smile was bright. "Ready to head back?" he asked cheerfully. "I can't wait to see the look on Grace's face when she sees all of this wood."

Amy bit her lip, as guilt flooded her senses._ Grace is in bed with a badly twisted ankle_, _and all you can think about is a couple of ants?_

Suddenly Dan frowned, and glanced back towards the house.

"Hey, Amy? I think our house is on fire!" He cried in alarm.

Amy froze, her mind not comprehending her brother's words. "W-What?" she gasped.

Billows of black smoke snaked into the muggy sky and Amy's eyes widened in shock at the sight.

Suddenly the full horror of the current situation washed over her and she gasped."Grace-" Amy shouted, frantically.

"-She'll be trapped!" Without thinking, she flung down her armful of wood and began to run; her legs pumped wildly as she raced towards the fire. Dan quickly passed her, coughing and wheezing as smoke filled his lungs, constricting his airway.

He skidded to a sudden halt when they reached the clearing in the middle of the woods, and Amy nearly bowled him over as she wobbled to a stop.

"What's the matter?" she asked, panting heavily.

"Quick, get down." Dan hissed, shoving Amy unceremoniously to the ground.

A dozen or so soldiers surrounded the cottage, cheering in morbid delight as huge flames licked hungrily about the building.

Amy gasped, and struggled to stand, but Dan held her down. "Amy, shh, they'll see us!" he hissed, fear evident in his tone.

"But Grace is in there!" Amy whisper-cried.

Just then, a wild scream pierced through the thick smoke, and Dan had to work hard to hold Amy back.

Everything went deadly silent after that. A soldier spat on the ground in disgust. "Come on, let's go." he said to his companions, "They're all dead."

When they left, Amy heaved her breakfast onto the ground, and clung to Dan, sobbing and trembling as the roof caved in, burying Grace beneath it.

Nothing survived that fire.

Grace's ashes blew away in the wind, leaving two devastated teens to mourn her inhumane murder.

Amy left a burial marker at the site, even attempted a funeral service, but it wasn't the same.

Dan refused to leave their cottage. After Grace's death, his face fused into a mask, that at times even Amy couldn't penetrate.

It scared her. Dan was sixteen- far too young to experience tragedy of this magnitude. Even she, at nineteen, felt as if Grace's death had torn her heart in two, and she would never be whole again.

Alone in the Lucian chamber, Amy balled her fists.

She hated the Kabras for destroying her family.

All this tragedy, for a silly serum.

Yes, it could give you all the power in the world- but what about happiness?

No, there was no happiness in the greedy hearts of the Kabras, and Amy knew that they would not find it through gaining the serum.

It was said, that none knew the location of the serum- that was a lie.

Grace had known all too well where it was hidden. As did Amy. When Amy was sixteen, Grace took both of them aside, and revealed the knowledge she had carefully guarded for so many years.

As a precaution, she made Amy and Dan promise never to drink the serum or reveal its location, no matter how bad things got.

Amy still remembered the solemn look in her grandmother's eyes as she made them take the oath.

In the following years, Grace never again addressed the matter.

But then again, she didn't have too...no one would forget a thing like that.

Amy had begged Dan to leave the demolished cottage, arguing that they had no way to survive in the forest, but he was stubborn... like Grace.

Against the odds, they managed to last a week; living off what small rodents and vegetation they could gather, and drinking from the cottage well which had been providentially spared from the inferno.

At last, Amy pointed out that if they died in the woods, then Vikram would win. That did it; Dan had relented, and they made plans to settle in the kingdom Triant.

_Triant._

A place that Grace had made off limits, ever since Amy and Dan were little,- and for good reason.

Amy knew the dangers that lurked in Triant, but there was little choice- it was either risk death by entering the kingdom, or starve slowly in the woods.

For Amy, being a descendant of Gideon Cahill was life threatening.

It was despicable that innocent people were being slaughtered by their own blood kin. And Vikram Kabra had almost succeeded completing Triant's plan...almost.

Now only Dan and Amy stood in his way.

Amy shivered slightly. The thought was not comforting at all, especially seeing as she was Ian Kabra's prisoner.

_Great going, Amy. _She thought bitterly. _Say you hate the crown prince with the power to murder you._

If she were killed, Dan would be left all alone -an easy target for Vikram's soldiers.

Amy paced the room, her steps resonating on the wood floor. A question nagged at her, refusing to be silenced.

Why _had_ Ian let her live?

In any right, he should have killed her...why hadn't he?

As she crossed the room, Amy couldn't help but feel trepidation creep into her soul. What if, on the quest, Ian forced her to reveal the location of the serum?

Amy eyed a tempting window, calculating her chances of squeezing through the small opening.

Her heart beat faster, fueled by adrenaline. There was still a chance for escape; she could run right now and be back with Dan before anyone realized that she was gone.

Another, more sinister image flashed into her mind, and Amy closed her eyes with a shudder. She remembered the feel of cold metal scraping against her throat, and Ian's deadly clam demeanor as he threatened her.

_No_. Amy realized, letting out a shaky breath. She couldn't risk taking chances, and getting herself killed; Dan needed her.

The door swung open, and Amy jumped, startled from her revery.

Two guards entered the room; sharp blades glittered at their hips, and they advanced on her with methodical efficiency.

Amy scooted towards the window. "S-Stay away from me," she threatened weakly, "Or I'll- J-jump out this window!"

The guards, nonplussed by her announcement, progressed steadily forward, their expressions hard and emotionless.

Each grabbed one of her arms -as if she could fight them off- and guided her, struggling and protesting back to the courtyard.

As Amy wrestled frantically in their iron grasps, a horrible, panicked thought flashed through her mind.

What would Dan do when he found out she had to go on the expedition with Ian? She knew that Dan was capable of crazy things and who knew what he would do if he found out?

_Unless he didn't find out..._

* * *

_Poor Amy huh? Wouldn't be just awful if you were forced to go with Ian Kabra on a trip? The answer to that should be NO! IT WOULD BE THE BEST THING EVER! XDXD_

_Okay maybe not for Amy at the moment, but things can change. Can't they?_

_Remember CC is always welcomed. And I would super love it if you checked out my other stories. Even if they may not be the best. ;)_


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